


My Place, Our Journey

by Bread_Stars



Series: Married!Sorian [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M, Married Characters, Post-Doom Upon All the World, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bread_Stars/pseuds/Bread_Stars
Summary: After they have defeated Corypheus once and for all, Dorian felt a profound sense of exhaustion wash over him. Exhaustion and the desire to fall asleep next to Solas. If only wishes could come true.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Dorian Pavus, Sera/Female Adaar (mentioned)
Series: Married!Sorian [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932445
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	My Place, Our Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is a continuation of my previous work in the series but can be read as a stand alone. It explores how my sequence of events changes the narrative of the rest of the story
> 
> If you want a quick summary of the fic before, the main points are:  
> -Solas and Dorian are married  
> -Both Dorian and the Inquisitor know about Solas’ true identity

The first thing Dorian felt after defeating Corypheus was a profound sense of exhaustion. He was ready to collapse onto the ground right there, his entire body aching and various injuries demanding that he rest. Unfortunately, first he had to get off this maker forsaken flying mountain and then reach Skyhold. There, there would be people from all over Thedas wanting to hear about the defeat of the so called god and his dragon who had flung the world into chaos. 

The prospect made Dorian feel sick to the stomach. 

He managed to drag himself down the damned steps which Corypheus had forced them to climb in his apparent desire to exhaust them before fighting. At the time, it had been rousing, but now the thought of taking a single extra step filled Dorian with a sense of dread that even more were to come. He couldn’t even rely on either the Inquisitor or his husband for conversation as he descended. They had stayed up there to examine Corypheus’ (but really Solas’) orb which had been damaged in the destruction of Corypheus. Secretly, Dorian hoped the damned thing was beyond repair because, although he understood why Solas was so attached to it, all it had brought the modern world was death and destruction, pain and ruin. 

The rest of the Inner Circle appeared equally battered as they descended the mountain in the air which had been descending at a moderate pace ever since Corypheus had actually been slain. A few of them managed to carry a somewhat coherent conversation. Cassandra and Varric discussed what would come next in their usual bickering way, involving lots of sighs on the Seeker’s part. Sera was chattering about something or the other (she seemed to be the only one actually energised by this conflict) whilst Blackwall listened, his face sometimes wrinkling whenever she aid something particularly distasteful. Cole fluttered in and out of people’s thoughts and conversations, all the while Vivienne seemed to be trying to teach him some form of etiquette and manners, not that he would ever learn.

No one had attempted to make conversation with him, perhaps anticipating that he would be too focussed on Solas’ absence to speak with them. Maybe they could read the anxiety on his face, not that they would understand its origin. He was nervous, truth be told, about whether his husband would be drawn back in by his plans, despite his reassurances, and what he might do if he should waver in his resolution. He wanted more than anything to have faith that Solas would keep his promises, but he knew how much the presence of the Veil and the state of the Elven people troubled him. What use was he, a mortal, to solve these issues when it came down to it?

And so his thoughts bothered him as he kept glancing backwards in the hopes that Solas would appear with the Inquisitor, and return to his side.

The only person, other than Dorian, who was keeping to himself oddly enough was the Iron Bull. He seemed pensive and rather out of touch with his surroundings. It was strange considering how he usually revelled in these sorts of battles, especially where dragons were involved. It was as if he had something else on his mind, if that were even possible.

Dorian turned his attention away from Solas, in attempt to calm his nerves, to Bull, trying to work out why he seemed so serene and yet troubled at the same time. He had been different somehow ever since Adaar had made that deal with the Qunari to stop the red lyrium from reaching the Venetori, even though it meant sacrificing the Chargers. She had spoken about it at length when many had objected to the alliance, stating that despite the losses, she couldn’t stand to allow the red lyrium trade continue when she had a chance to stop it. She had saved more lives this way, she reasoned, even though it pained her to have to sacrifice people she had come to care for. It hadn’t even really been about the alliance. She’d seen first hand what red lyrium could do ordinary people- they all had. Families had been ripped apart, lives torn away before their time. It didn’t make the loss of the Chargers any easier on any of them though.

However, in the case of Bull, it didn’t even seem to be grief as one might expect or anger at the Inquisitor for causing the deaths of people he considered his family. Dorian and Sera has tried to be around for him, keeping him occupied with other things to try and distract him from such a significant loss. Bull had just brushed them off after a while, fed up with their attempts. It was as if he had wanted to become isolated. Dorian thought that everyone was secretly hoping that once the victory was declared he might return to his old self, that he might consider them his new family.

That did not seem to be the case.

He was brought out of his reverie as they finally reached the bottom of the seemingly never ending steps. It was decided unanimously and almost without needing to speak that they should wait here for the Inquisitor and Solas to join them so that they could announce their victory as a group. After all, if anyone deserved the honour of declaring that Corypheus was finally defeated, it was Adaar.

The waiting was almost excruciating, or at least it was for Dorian. His entire future was up there being decided and there was nothing he could do but stare up the mountain and hope for the best.A silence fell over them, solemn and expecting, like when the dark clouds of a storm appear overhead yet not a single drop of rain has fallen. Dorian had no idea how long this silence went on for, but it felt like it could have been days, or at least hours. 

Every passing second saw him more worried about what was to happen. What if Solas left him without saying goodbye? What if he did say goodbye but refused to stay? What if he did stay only to leave later, breaking his heart anyway? Dorian didn’t know which option was worse.

He suddenly felt a wave of nausea pass over him. He rushed quickly to the side of the path, hoping to preserve some of his dignity as he hurled into one of the decaying bushes which had previously lined the way. His breath was ragged and uneven as he shook from the combination of nerves and the aftermath of the battle. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.

As if by some miracle, he suddenly felt a hand on his back, firm yet gentle. He would know that touch anywhere. He twisted around swiftly and was greeted by the face of his husband, his tired, battered down husband, but nonetheless his husband. He hesitantly reached out to touch Solas’ face, almost expecting him to dissolve upon touch. Yet, he remained even in response to touch. 

“Solas...?” he spoke, as if it were a question. 

“I will not desert you, Dorian,” he reassured him, pulling him closer using the hand planted on his back. “I did not marry you only to abandon you now.”

“But your plans..?”

“Like I told you, my plans have changed.  I have changed.” Solas leaned in to kiss him, but he drew back quickly.

“I’ve just emptied the contents of my stomach. I hardly think it would be enjoyable or even hygienic,” he explained when his lover’s face turned into a frown, nervous and unsure.

He nodded, instead taking Dorian in his arms and holding him close with a tight grip. Dorian quickly returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist to draw him ever closer so that their bodies were pressed together. 

“I will not let you go, ma vhenan, not by choice,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if Dorian were his lifeline. 

The Inquisitor coughed loudly from behind them, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Dorian loosened his grip with a slight roll of his eyes, knowing that she was only joking with them. After all, she was both of their closest friends and had stood up for their relationship many times whenever it was questioned.

“I know you’re happy to be reunited, but we really ought to get back to Skyhold. I think Josephine and Leliana will kill us if we make them wait any longer,” she smiled. 

“We can’t have that, can we? Especially when you’ve just defeated Corypheus. That would seem a bit anticlimactic,” Dorian grinned.

On the journey back, Solas kept a tight hold of his hand, as if he were worried that Dorian might make a run for it or disappear entirely. He squeezed his hand softly, in attempt to sooth the elf. Solas loosened his grip minutely, still grasping rather too tightly for comfort. It didn’t matter in that instant though, Dorian thought to himself. He was here, that was all that really meant anything to him.

The atmosphere in Skyhold when they arrived back was excitable and almost overwhelming in its intensity. Everyone wanted to hear the stories of what had happened, as Dorian had anticipated, and celebrations were organised. They were obliged to attend as members of the Inner Circle, though Dorian suspected that even Adaar wished to retire to her chambers, preferably with Sera in tow.

Various nobles who were either already lodged at Skyhold or passing through the area joined the festivities, bothering any member of the Inquisition they believed looked like they might know anything about the events of the day. It was clear that almost everyone saw them as the pain the arse that they were, bar maybe Josephine, who, as their Ambassador, was obliged to fill them in and establish good connections.

“Excuse me, Altus Pavus,” another noble approached him. He was surprisingly popular for the evil Tevinter Magister. This one has at least gotten his title right. “May I borrow a moment of your time?”

Dorian sighed, but didn’t refuse him. “Of course. What is it you would like to know?”

“Well, I have heard that you were present for the destruction of both Corypheus and that dragon of his. What was it like to be that close to such immense power that has crippled Thedas?” he gestured excitedly.

“Well, let me tell you, it is obvious that renewing his wardrobe has not been a part of Corypheus’ régime to end the world. Really, you’d think that a god would at least know how to dress himself,” he admonished, knowing full well that these were not the details this noble was looking for.

“Yes, yes, but how did it feel to witness the downfall of such an evil?” he pestered.

“Much like falling out of bed after a bad dream. Confusing, exhausting and it leaves you a little bit bruised,” he replied. “You are glad, however, that the nightmare is over, even if your muscles ache and you’ve hardly slept.” 

The noble seemed a mix of being in awe at the metaphor and frustrated that he wasn’t receiving a straight answer. 

“You were there too, correct?” he turned to Solas. “What was it like for you?”

Solas seemed to have tuned out of the conversation, not that that surprised Dorian. These nobles were rather dull. He seemed taken aback by the question as a result.

“I suppose it was exhilarating to know that we had finally removed the greatest threat to Thedas once and for all, though my husband is right, it was equally draining. You must understand that, as mages, we exhausted all our energy in this fight. To produce constant spells for hours on end requires immense strength and stamina,” he was more helpful in his response.

“You two are wed?”

Dorian should not have been surprised that that was the detail this noble had picked out, of all the information Solas had supplied. It was as if he had been hearing about the price of grain or some equally boring subject, not the greatest battle of this age, to be remembered in history as one of the most significant conflicts that had ever come to pass.

“Has Corypheus slipped your interest so quickly?” he asked rather pointedly. “I do not see what our marriage has to do with his demise.”

“It is just that I have never heard of heroes that have been married before,” he replied quickly, clearly noting that he had offended. “Other than in fiction of course.”

“While recent events may seem like they could be fictional, I assure you it is all real,” Solas spoke up. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we very much need to rest.”

He nodded politely before excusing himself, likely to go bother someone else. He looked a little flustered, Dorian thought, at being called out on his mistakes and maybe even at being told to leave them alone by an elf, but he went nonetheless.

Dorian glanced over at Solas, who still had an iron grip on his hand even now. He had not let go even whilst they dined, squeezing even tighter when Dorian had gone to pull away, thinking it would be easier to eat with two hands instead of one. It was as if he was afraid Dorian would disappear should he let go.

“Is everything alright?” He murmured under his breath. 

“I- it’s complicated. Now is not the time,” he whispered back.

“Later, then.”

His response was met with a hesitant nod. He shuffled closer to Solas, pressing their thighs together to further reassure him. One of the many surprising things about Solas was that physical contact actually comforted him, if done correctly. He did not see contact as a way to publicise and draw attention to their relationship, but rather as something more subtle. A reminder that the other person was there for you. 

As soon as was reasonably possible, they managed to escape the main hall, making their way back to their quarters. After Adaar and Sera had not so subtly snook off, Dorian hardly thought they should be the ones held accountable for ditching the party early. After all, it technically wasn’t a celebration for them but for the Inquisitor.

“Ready to talk?” Dorian asked lightly, trying not to put too much pressure on his husband to speak right away. The door clicked closed behind them as Dorian swivelled around to look at the other man.

“The Inquisitor asked me to leave,” he blurted out. 

Dorian frowned, looking over his husband as if searching for some sign that he was joking. But there was none. His shoulders had risen ever so slightly, only visible to those who knew him very well, as he did.

“Leave? Why would she want you to do that?”

“She requires some space to think over my role in everything. I think she’s concerned that I am too involved with everything working against her. She needs people she can trust, completely and utterly. At the moment, I am not one such person.”

He stared at Solas, unable to believe a world that came out of his mouth. What was Adaar thinking? How could she think that? No sooner had Solas just demonstrated that he was willing to give up on his hopes of restoring Arlathan and the world actually familiar to him, than she had kicked him out. 

“Vishante kaffas, Herah!” he cursed. “Why shouldn’t she trust you? You’ve helped her at every stage. You were the one who knew about Skyhold and brought us here. You were the one who taught her how to seal rifts. You were the one who provided her with everything she needed to know about the Fade. How could she do this to you?”

“It’s because I did all of that that she’s asking me to go. She’s worried that I had too much influence over her journey. She wishes to exercise some level of control. Can you really blame her?”

“Damn right I’ll blame her for banishing my husband!” 

“Dorian,” Solas pleaded at last. “You cannot change this. I must go.”

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating what was to come. “We. We must go. I’m not leaving your side.”

Solas actually had the audacity to look shocked that he’d suggested such a thing, as if he wasn’t married to him. Dorian couldn’t believe he thought he’d abandon him just to stay with the Inquisition. Adaar may be his closest friend but she wasn’t his spouse. He didn’t love her the way he loved Solas. Besides, they could stay in touch. That was, if she wasn’t worried about being influenced by Solas through him, he thought bitterly.

“Thank you,” he whispered eventually. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to leave. I know that you’ve found a place here where you belong...”

“Where I belong,” he interrupted, “is by your side. Maker’s breath, Solas, I’m your husband! You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Is that why you’ve been cutting off blood to my hand all night? You thought this was the last time you’d be able to do so?”

The look on his face was enough of an answer so Dorian didn’t bother giving him the chance to reply. Instead, he pressed their lips together, pulling his husband in by his waist. Solas quickly responded, opening his mouth slightly as Dorian licked a stripe across his lips. His hands found the back of the other mage’s head, curling around his neck. This was familiar. There was no rush to explore, as Solas massaged the soft skin behind his ear, something it seemed he enjoyed doing.

Dorian pulled back after a few minutes, resting their foreheads upon one another, staring into Solas’ eyes. “So where to?”

Solas appeared to ponder the notion, suggesting that he had no plans, something rare considering how meticulous he was. Dorian waited whilst he seemingly went over options in his head.

“There’s always Tevinter.”

If Dorian had been drinking, he surely would have spat out the contents of his mouth at that suggestion. At the present, his eyes brows raised further up his forehead. This situation seemed to be getting more and more ludicrous. 

“You can’t be serious,” he said slowly, still processing the notion.

“You have hopes for reform, correct? To do so would require you to actually go to Tevinter at least for some time. I would go with you, if you allow it,” he replied, sounding very much serious.

“Amatus, it’s hardly the safest place for elves. I cannot encourage you to enter a place where you’re very existence would lead to your persecution,” he sighed.

“Firstly,” Solas huffed, now looking somewhat annoyed, “elves are persecuted everywhere. Yes the dangers are greater in Tevinter, but the opportunity to change the Magisterium, to aid the elven slaves who need me most- it is too great a reward to sniff at. Secondly, Tevinter is hardly the safest place for you either. You will suffer degradations at the hands of your fellow countrymen. You say you cannot allow me to go somewhere I will suffer. Well, I will not allow you to suffer alone. We can face whatever prejudices we encounter together.”

For the first time since the suggestion was made, Dorian actually contemplated the idea. It would allow him to make more meaningful change, to actually meet with and influence the Magisters and perhaps even find other young revolutionaries like himself, who would join their cause. Moreover, what could be a bigger statement to the Magisterium than to bring back his elven husband, and openly live with him? Sure, they would have to be careful in case of attack, but it would definitely state their cause loud and clear. He was sure, at least, that Maevaris would be there to support them, and, as a Magister herself, she had great sway. She was already known as a revolutionary figure, so perhaps they would even be offered the aid of her followers.

He would have to organise living arrangements before they got there; it would put them at risk if they appeared vulnerable upon arrival. He supposed he probably had enough coin to buy a small house in Minnrathous, perhaps not anywhere central, but it could work. This was actually a possibility.

“Alright,” he eventually responded. “You will have to tell me if you feel unsafe though, and allow me to make the appropriate arrangements for our time there. I have some funds put away that will finance this, but we should expect that it will not be a calm life.”

He was rewarded with a small smile in response, as if a child had been given a sweet that they pretended they had not been eyeing for the past half hour.

“This may surprise you,” he responded almost mischievously, though Dorian supposed that was apt for the Elven Evanuris of Trickery, “but I also have savings. I can and will contribute to anything we need to purchase.” 

“Amatus,” he shook his head slightly, “nothing should surprise me about you anymore, for you are full of them. I suppose that’s settled then. As soon as the preparations have been made, we shall leave for Tevinter.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this series. I have plans to explore how the setting of Trespasser will be affected by the world state I’ve created. Hopefully I’ll be able to get that out to you reasonably soon.
> 
> As always, any feedback is welcome!


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